


Unexpected

by a_fan4all_seasons



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1872207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_fan4all_seasons/pseuds/a_fan4all_seasons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pain. Denial. The bits in between.<br/>But most of all, denial. This is what John's life had become after Sherlock's fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is my first ever fanfiction that I am actually posting. I hope you enjoy it and maybe you guys could help me with some ideas for the next chapter :)

It was a normal day, well, as normal as it can get with Sherlock around. A few dead bodys, one or two caught criminals, all in all a pretty normal day.  
Now and then Sherlock would walk by John’s room, spying in surreptitiously. At one point John asked why he kept walking past to which Sherlock replied by ignoring him completely. John walked out of his room and peered down the hallway catching a glimpse of Sherlock’s dressing gown disappearing into the living room. He followed and saw Sherlock sprawled out on the sofa.  
"Sherlock, is there any chance that the sofa is big enough for two?" John asked in a sarcastic tone. Sherlock didn’t answer. John turned on the TV and moved Sherlock’s legs to the side finally sitting next to him on the sofa and putting the legs carefully on his lap. While they watched TV in silence John was painfully aware of Sherlock’s presence beside him, but something didn't seem right. He looked to his left to peer at Sherlock and saw the horrifying truth, Sherlock wasn’t there. Then it hit John like a bullet (and it hurt more than the one he remembered from Afgahnistan). He remembered everything. Moriarty, the building, the fall... Sherlock was dead.

**

John often looked out of the window hoping against hope he'd see the familiar figure walking up to 221B he knew wouldn't come. Many times he'd notice always different people looking up at his window. It annoyed him because these people would always look up to his flat and if he was looking back, they'd walk away quickly. What did they want?  
When John looked out of the window that day he saw one of these strange people and felt a sudden flash of paranoia. He stepped back from the window faster than he could think and tumbled over the sofa, landing on his back and sprawling out over it like Sherlock used to lie. John groaned and just lay there thinking. There was something about all those different strangers, something... the same. It had to do with the eyes. No matter what colour they were, there was always something cold, distant, intelligent and... familiar about them he just couldn't quite work out what it was. As he lay there he could have sworn he could hear Sherlock laughing but then again he could have sworn all those other days were real.  



End file.
